When I heard the
news that feral cats were no longer an endangered species in Wisconsin,
I decided to find out what was going on because I’ve had lots of experience
with feral, semi-feral, and stray cats. I quickly learned that multitudes
of abandoned and/or born-in-the-wild cats can now be shot on sight. Of
course the reason they’re out there is because they weren’t kept inside
by their “owners.” Little Fluffy wasn’t meant to stay indoors where she
could be safe, and spaying and neutering was just so unnatural. Those
were the “hippie-isms” that caused this problem in the first place. (Mostly,
people are too cheap, lazy, or busy to get it done.)

Here’s a little info
on those wild creatures. Feral cats have had almost no experience with
humans and see us as predators. Wisconsin’s new law proves them right.
They’re born in the wild and prefer to stay there unless they can scarf
some food from i.e., my deck. Strays, however, are someone’s discarded
or lost pets. Eventually, they join up with a feral community or create
one, but they’re not as afraid of humans. If they’re not neutered or spayed,
they’ll produce litters of feral kittens. The only way to tame the kittens
is to catch them before they’re ten weeks old and socialize them with
people (other than leftover or new and improved hippies). Some strays
will seek a new owner or beg for a warm place to sleep and eat. Those
cats make the best companions.

As a supporter of
Spay/Neuter and Release Programs, I was a little miffed that the rational
behind the new law was, in part, the number of songbirds “murdered” annually
in Wisconsin by feline vagabonds. Obviously, a hungry cat will find a
way to eat something on the food chain, and songbirds must be a tasty
delicacy to feral cats. Of course, there are natural and mechanized predators
of cats, i.e., the fisher cat, and the coyote, to name just two, and the
automobile or assault rifle . . . but I guess there’s a shortage of the
natural kind in Wisconsin.

Not to worry. When
it comes to various life forms, Americans have adopted the abortion and
death-with-dignity mantras of “disposability.” In fact, it started with
animals. If it’s too plentiful, annoying, inconvenient, too much trouble
to deal with, or sickly, it gets killed. (Next year, the residents of
Wisconsin will complain about the over-population of songbirds, bird droppings
on cars, the diseases birds carry, or the noise pollution they produce.)

It was Wisconsin’s
hunters who demanded the demise of feral cats because they’re doing what
comes naturally—hunting for their food. Evidently, they cut into the hunters’
prey—the stuff that can’t be bought at the local Piggly Wiggly, A & P,
or Wal-Mart. Please don’t get me wrong. Hunting is a sport that’s good
outdoor fun, keeps us well armed as citizens, and preserves specific groups
of animals in the wild (except feral cats who no one wants to preserve).
By the same token, cats control the rodent and bug populations.

The cat haters were
also in on passage of the new law. Cats carry horrible diseases, they
claimed. It’s true. Cats can transmit cat fever, which is no laughing
matter, and cat scratches and bites can be quite serious if not treated
immediately. Of course, anyone who goes near a feral cat without an updated
tetanus shot, protective gloves, and a large towel for wrapping the animal
so it feels secure is either nuts or ignorant. A wild animal will not
love you instantly, dine at your dinner table, and become your best friend
within minutes of eating.

Truth be known, feral
cats are a problem across this nation, but only because man hasn’t controlled
their populations through spaying and neutering. Now, those critters have
strayed—no pun intended—into the domain of corporate America, allegedly
causing “undue harm and hardship” to i.e., multi-family living environments,
among others. Let me tell you my feral cat story . . .

I live in a decent
(somewhat overpriced) apartment in Tennessee that’s situated on a short
mountain ridge. The complex is owned and managed by Stephen D. Bell &
Company based in Greensboro, North Carolina. They maintain their properties
quite well, but (probably unwittingly) are a good example of the Communist
takeover of American corporations and the loss of individualism for renters.

This shouldn’t be
a surprise to anyone. Local complexes in my neck of the woods used to
offer reasonably priced units. Unfortunately, we were targeted by the
“close to Atlanta” crowd, which has led to skyrocketing rents. The city
has also opted into the UN’s Agenda 21, making it UN-compliant (and a
good reason to relocate). It speaks volumes about who’s controlling what
around these parts, why the rents are so high, and why housing is a huge
problem for minimum-wage workers or those earning lower salaries. Most
people, however, don’t know what’s happening to them, their towns and
cities, or their nation.

As an informative
e-mailer wrote the other day: “This is a nation of jet propelled, air
conditioned, steak eating slaves who are abused, amused, confused, defused,
diseased, divided and conquered as well as indoctrinated, intimidated,
interrogated, regulated, dominated, irritated, chlorinated, fluoridated,
intoxicated, incarcerated, lacerated, vaccinated and decimated.”

I guess most folks
don’t have the energy, time, or resources to do what it takes to reverse
the process. We’re stuck with high gas prices, wages that aren’t increasing
fast enough to keep up with housing and other living costs, while politicians
work overtime to drag us into a New World Order.

This method of “governing”
has trickled down to corporate America, which includes the rental-housing
segment. Landlords have resumed the role of master of the estate and renters
are the servants who pay their salaries (and bonuses). While their promotional
materials insist they will serve us in our new “apartment homes,” reality
proves we’re serving them as we succumb to their increasingly oppressive
and intrusive rules. Add to that the takeover of multiple properties by
mega corporations and we have the housing needs of the newly defined proletariat
owned and managed by a few powerful landowners and management corporations—exactly
what the UN had in mind with Agenda 21.

Before you start
screaming about what your last tenant’s cat or dog did to your rental
property, let me say that property owners have a right to protect their
investments, both large and small. There’s no denying that pets do damage,
especially if the “owners” are slackers who don’t have a clue about proper
animal care. However, after living in apartment complexes off and on for
two decades, I believe that such living is not for those who value individual
freedoms. It is, however, quite suitable for those who are willing to
tow the corporate line or who like living in hermetically sealed containers
whereby reality never touches them.

I belong to the first
group, but my income forces me into the second group—kind of like being
a round peg in a square hole. I want to obey the rules, respect authority,
and conform when it’s not ungodly, but something always crops up that
sends me into the presence of management. Rarely am I there for anything
positive, no matter what I do. I could poop-scoop every lawn in this complex,
and they’d still find fault with me.

Before I rented this
apartment with my two college-age children, I drove around it to see how
it looked at different times of the day. It was impossible to miss the
cats that were loitering around what would be my outside deck. I guess
they were hoping the bird feeders the departing tenant had outside would
remain so they could continue dining on songbirds, mice, and chipmunks.
Someone had been feeding those furry critters.

I asked the leasing
agent about the cats and she mumbled something about people letting their
cats out; but she never told me they had a major feral and stray cat problem.
(She also didn’t tell me about the raccoons and ‘possums.) I found out
on my own . . . and it didn’t take long. They were here long before I
moved in and they’ll be here long after I move out . . . but I’m jumping
ahead of myself . . .

Two summers ago,
I bought a large piece of lattice and had it cut to fit the opening on
my deck, which is almost totally enclosed. The lattice was up for about
30 minutes before management wrote a letter ordering its removal. I had
it cut a bit shorter per their request, and explained it would only be
up when I was out there with my two cats and one dog. No one would escape
and we’d all get some fresh air. Management finally said it was okay.

Enter the feral and
stray cats that saw mine from a distance and knew a good meal might in
the offing. I talked with management about rescuing them and finding them
homes. They set up a trap or two for the critters, but nothing was ever
trapped (though the food was eaten). Over the next two years, with occasional
support from management, I fed, nurtured, and “captured” 12 cats and made
sure they got good homes. It wasn’t my plan to get involved in this effort,
but I was tired of taking my trash out at night and finding raccoons,
cats, or ‘possums loitering around or ransacking the contents of the dumpster.
I also couldn’t use my deck without them coming around.

I called various
cat rescue agencies, spoke with the Board of Health, the Humane Society
about their Spay/Neuter and Release Program, got spay/neuter donations
from one group and vouchers from another. One excellent group, Adoption
Option, gave food donations. I finally had my rescue efforts down to a
science and my tetanus shot updated. At last count, only five cats came
to my deck to eat the food I provided, two of which were about to be placed
with a no-kill agency for adoption. Cats that had little or no positive
experience with human beings were gradually becoming good companions.
It was almost miraculous to watch them change from frightened, feral cats
to beautiful, loving animals. All it took was patience, some love, and
a willingness to let them set the pace at which it would happen. I thought
management was pleased . . . but I was wrong.

Last week, two letters
were tacked to my door. The first stated that my lease will not be renewed
because I was feeding strays. I have until June 7th at midnight to vacate
the premises. The second came after I talked with the complex manager.
It stated that she’d read the literature on feral cats I’d provided and
didn’t agree. She also said that although I’d removed all the cat food
from my deck (which forces me to starve the critters), the continued presence
of three small boxes I was using to create a prototype of a cat playground
and water dish (really a food container) indicated I was not sincere about
stopping my cat rescue program. Poppycock!

You’re probably thinking,
“What’s the big deal? She’ll have to move and they can have their cat
problem back.” Well, you’re right about the latter, but wrong about the
rest. I’m angry. After a long job search and some short-term or temporary
positions, my finances are just starting to improve, but still need a
major facelift. I don’t earn enough to buy a house; and rentals plus mandatory
pet fees are sky high. I’m ripped that my compassion and concern, along
with the seriousness of their problem, has cost me a place to live.
Remind me not to meddle in the future.

By the same token,
welcome to the new corporate America. When 11 kittens showed up at one
of the dumpsters, I asked permission to rescue them. I had a no-kill agency
willing to find them homes. Two weeks into the process of finding their
hiding spots and rounding them up, management stopped me. Now they’re
grown cats who will have more kittens. The animals couldn’t win for losing
with this on-again, off-again system . . . and neither could I. Like the
kittens that were found in a box in one of the dumpsters on the property
last year (they were rescued by a caring tenant), I’m sure another crop
of disposables will show up this season.

There was a time
when management would have been thrilled if a tenant took in a stray or
tamed one that was wild and helped find it a home. Not today. Again, with
fewer corporations owning the land, the rules have changed; and if you’re
not one of their favorites, you’ll never be treated with dignity. Their
desire to control far outweighs their commitment to serve, and they’ll
smile in your face while they turn you out on the street. Oppression has
become sport to those who hold all the power and their numbers are decreasing
as power becomes more and more consolidated into the hands of the few.

I don’t know where
we’re going to move. Notwithstanding my deep faith, I have humorous images
of finding a really good refrigerator box and occupying it with a couple
of cats who have no idea what living on the street is all about. It may
take such a move for me to acquire enough funding to get a new place to
live. What I do know is that I’ll never rent from a corporation that wants
to run my life, threaten me, or inspect my “apartment home” to see if
I’m obeying their rules.

Corporate America
is now part of the SuperSnoop machinery we thought was reserved only for
government. From dwelling places to almost all other aspects of our lives,
they track us, monitor our spending habits, keep records of the things
we buy, size up the balance of our checking and savings accounts, document
what we own, what we rent, and rate us socially and politically. Now they
even monitor the cats we feed or rescue. Enough is enough.

I’ll move, and if
the feral cats, raccoons, and ‘possums return to the dumpsters and decks
of this complex and cause problems, it won’t be my fault. I just hope
they have good insurance. When the shooting of feral cats begins in this
and other states, it may not be just a wild animal that’s killed on this
or surrounding private property; it may be a child, someone’s pet, or
a tenant. It’s a great way to keep mankind on the road to pandemic and
prophesied lawlessness. Keep this in mind: death of any living creature,
especially humans, means nothing to those who don’t know the One who is
the Creator of all living things, who breathes life into us, and who even
sees a sparrow fall.

Jill Cohen Walker earned a BA from
Goddard College in 1977, a JD from Franklin Pierce Law Center in 1980,
and an MS in journalism at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville in 1999.
A freelance writer for fifteen years, she has written numerous articles
for tech magazines and newspapers, and co-authored a book on hiring practices
in the printing industry.

She taught Social Studies for one
year in a northern middle school, and medical-legal and bio-medical courses
in the Allied Health division of a local community college for four years.
A student of legal history and the US Constitution, she began to study
current events and Bible prophecies in March 1985. Her deep interest in
and awareness of American politics started during the 2000 elections when
she realized the prophetic time clock was ticking fast. She is the co-author
of the novel "The Call to Prayer". (www.thecalltoprayer.net).